


Fit to be Tied

by deinvati



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Aftercare, Bottom!Eames, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Edging, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shibari, needy bottom Eames to be specific, top!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 10:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: "Have you ever been dommed, Mr Eames?" Arthur asked into Eames' parted lips.Eames pulled back, his eyes bright. "Not by anyone like you, darling.""Yes," Arthur agreed.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 157





	Fit to be Tied

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to swtalmnd for the beta and the cheering, and Queen Thayet for the title! BAMF Arthur and Needy Eames forever!

Cocky, smug Eames leaning up against the doorframe of his hotel room was an excellent sight, even if he was still dressed in the jacket and trousers from the morning. Arthur stood aside to let Eames enter and decided those would be the first things to go.

Eames leaned in to kiss him and Arthur raised a cool eyebrow, despite the way his stomach clenched at the sight.

"Have you ever been dommed, Mr Eames?" Arthur asked into Eames' parted lips, and Eames froze. They hadn't been sleeping together long, but Arthur had been thinking about this for a long, long time.

Eames pulled back, his eyes bright. "Not by anyone like you, darling."

"Yes," Arthur agreed and indicated Eames sit in the chair he'd pulled out: wooden, cushioned, but more importantly, armless.

Eames grinned, eyebrows in his hairline and sat expectantly. "Is this where I pick a safeword like 'Oklahoma' or 'starfish?'"

"If you like," Arthur said simply, getting everything ready on the desk behind Eames. "Although I doubt 'stop' is what you're going to want to tell me."

"Ooh, Arthur," Eames chuckled, "whatever did I do to get so lucky, eh? Alright, love, I'll play."

Arthur just hummed. "Take off your shirt, shoes, and socks." He moved around to watch, thoughts pinging in his head faster than he could discard them. Eames was delicious to watch, and he could easily get distracted if he let himself. Shoes and socks came first, then the jacket and shirt, and Arthur frowned. Eames' nipples practically begged for clamps, and Arthur hadn't brought any. Not _any._ He cursed his lack of forethought.

"Darling?" Eames asked, concern crossing his features. "Something wrong?"

Arthur waved a hand. "Just planning, Mr Eames. Please." He indicated the bed, where Eames could toss his clothing. He wouldn't have enough time to do all the things he wanted anyway, so there was always next time. His cock twitched at the thought, and he moved to the desk. "May I?"

Eames turned his head to see the length of soft red rope Arthur held, a color chosen specifically to bring out the flush Arthur had seen in Eames' cheeks from time to time.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed easily, and Arthur nodded his approval.

With short words and soft touches, Arthur maneuvered Eames where he wanted him, placing rope around Eames' arms and torso in two sections, space only for his pouty nipples in between, and then binding his hands behind him. He left him free to move however he wished on the chair because just the thought of Eames aching, arching up, reaching and begging was making Arthur's mouth dry.

"I'm going to take off your pants," Arthur told Eames, his voice hard and unyielding, and maybe slightly rougher than before. Eames didn't say anything, and that was good because Arthur was through asking permission for the evening. He just watched, leaning back slightly to help Arthur work the fabric down his hips.

He wasn't completely hard yet, and that was okay, they were just getting started. Arthur let an appreciative finger trace the bulge in his underwear anyway, and Eames twitched under Arthur's hand.

He met Eames' eyes, and there was mischief there, and Arthur tamped down on the curl of his lips. He was going to enjoy every second of this. He left the underwear on.

More rope around Eames' thick thighs, stretched to wrap lovingly around his ankles, keeping him tucked close to the chair but letting him keep his feet on the floor.

Arthur stepped back to admire his handiwork. Beautiful.

"What now, Arthur? Blindfold?"

Eames' cheeky grin was still hidden behind his lips, and Arthur considered his thighs thoughtfully. "Mmm, no," he said slowly, "and our first rule of the night. You may only speak if it's not in complete sentences."

"Poor grammar kink, eh darling?" Eames asked, his full grin coming out of hiding.

Arthur's eyes snapped to his and he unleashed a glare to let Eames know he was on thin fucking ice. Eames shrugged with his mouth, still cocky, still not really understanding who held all the cards here, but that was okay. They were just getting started.

"Second rule," Arthur said, calmly. "You may come when I allow it, and not before."

"Looking forward to…" Eames broke off at Arthur's warning frown and cleared his throat. "Apologies. Punishments?"

And Arthur broke into his first full smile of the night. "Oh no, Mr Eames. We work on a reward system here. And I think that deserves your first reward, don't you?"

* * *

"God, Arthur," Eames panted, a lovely sheen of sweat over every straining muscle. "Please…"

Arthur grinned, one lube-soaked hand stroking the briefest of touches up the length of Eames' red cock.

Eames chased the friction with his hips, coming off the chair. His thighs trembled and another drip of precome rolled off the edge of his foreskin and onto his stomach. He groaned. "Oh _come on, _you're killing me, darling."

"Ah ah," Arthur rumbled in his ear. "What did we say about sentences?"

"No, wait," Eames whined, but Arthur was already turning off the small vibe which was sunk into Eames, rubbing mercilessly on his prostate. Eames moaned at the loss, tossing his head against the back of the chair.

"Let's sit you up, shall we?" Arthur said, wiping his hands on a towel.

"No, Arthur," Eames begged, his eyes pleading.

"Yes, I think that's best," Arthur soothed, moving to lift Eames under the arms, scooting him back on the chair and giving his thighs and core a rest.

"But I'm ready," Eames said, shifting on the prostate massager still buried in him.

"Shhhh," Arthur hushed into his ear, reaching down to pluck at Eames' nipples. Eames moaned into the touch.

"_Fuck_ safewords, Arthur, what the word that gets you to fucking _fuck_ me?" Eames snapped, sounding a bit hysterical.

"Oh, my, Mr Eames," Arthur said, tsking, and Eames' eyes clenched shut. Arthur stopped touching Eames' nipples and he let out what sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Arthur moved to the front of the chair, standing between Eames' knees. "I think that particular sentence should earn _me_ a reward, don't you think?"

Arthur reached down and undid his zipper, the only thing of his which had come undone so far tonight. He fished out his erection, one stroke to relieve the pressure as he cupped Eames' jaw.

Eames glared up at him. "How are you not…?" He looked down at himself, hard and aching, his underwear tucked under his balls, lubed, flushed, and still waiting.

"Shh. I came before you got here," Arthur told him as he fed him his cock.

Eames let out a wounded sound, looking up at Arthur with betrayal.

"Right before," Arthur breathed, enjoying the look of Eames' mouth wrapped around him. "Into the sink."

Eames' whine was silenced by Arthur pushing in even further. He'd have to stop soon but not just yet.

"I filmed it on my phone if you want me to send it to you later," Arthur said, his words getting a little breathy, and yeah, he should stop thrusting if he wanted to finish Eames the way he deserved.

But then Eames lunged forward, burying Arthur down his throat, working him in a way that made Arthur see stars, and Arthur had to grab him by the hair to pull him off.

"Ohhh, Mr Eames," Arthur gusted, catching his breath. He grinned. "Very good." He flipped the switch in his pocket, the lowest setting, but Eames jolted at the feeling, squeezing his eyes closed. Arthur let him buck into the sensation as he tucked himself away and re-zipped, enjoying the view of Eames' arms box tied behind his back, but then he shut it off.

"On your knees, Mr Eames," Arthur announced to cut off Eames' groan of frustration. It was a command he hadn't given yet tonight, and Eames looked up out of curiosity. Arthur just raised an eyebrow and waited.

The way his thighs were bound to his ankles made standing impossible, but Arthur helped to steady him as he slid off the chair and onto the rough carpet. Arthur circled him, kneeling proud and straight, chest and arms bound, cock standing at attention, and god _damn_ he did good work.

Arthur crouched in front of Eames, eye to eye. Then he took Eames' cock in his hand. It was slightly tacky with not enough lube, foreskin slipping smoothly over the head anyway, and Arthur started off firm and smooth. Eames seemed to know what was coming because his lips tightened in a thin line and he stared into middle distance over Arthur's shoulder.

"I'm going to fuck you, Eames," Arthur said, and Eames' eyelids fluttered. "I'm going to hold you down and take my fill, use you exactly the way I want, and when I'm finished, only when I'm finished, I'm going to let you come. Would you like that?"

Eames wouldn't meet his eyes, but he grunted, "Yes," his hips starting to cant into the rhythm, and Arthur slackened his grip. Fingertips only now, not enough pressure or friction to get Eames where he wanted, and Eames was sweating. With a final tug, Arthur released him.

"I want you on the bed, Mr Eames. On your stomach."

"Oh thank fuck," Eames said breathily, and he tried to crawl the few steps over.

Arthur helped him maneuver into position, then tossed a pillow at the edge of the bed, pointing. It was an awkward height, but Eames managed it. His knees spread beautifully out as he collapsed on the bed, grinding into the pillow as if Arthur wouldn't realize what he was doing. Arthur grabbed the lube and switched on the vibe.

"Oh, _oh_," Eames groaned into the mattress.

Arthur pulled out his cock with one hand and popped the cap on the lube with the other. "Hump the pillow, Eames."

Eames gave a choked sob as he circled his hips, blessed friction on his prick, finally, and Arthur's twitched in anticipation as he slicked himself.

"Good," Arthur praised, "now stop." He shut off the vibe, and to his delight, Eames froze, hips up, vibe on display. His hands were clenched into fists, and Arthur ran a soothing hand down his body, calming and letting Eames know where he was. He flipped his tie over his shoulder.

"You've been so good, Mr Eames. You look unbelievable like this." He stroked Eames' over-sensitized skin, fingers clutching at the ass he'd like to spank until it matched the color of the ropes. But Eames was still up on his knees, holding his cock as far from the pillow as he could, taking deep breaths in through his nose, and Arthur reminded himself there could be a next time.

"I don't think you need this anymore," he said, drawing out the massager and setting it aside. Eames twitched at the loss, forehead buried in the mattress, pressing his hips backward as he nodded, agreeing with anything Arthur said.

"Please," he said again, "darling…"

With one, long, slow push, Arthur seated himself inside Eames, a low, guttural groan sliding out of both of them at the same time. He was so tight, so warm, and Arthur had to stop and breathe. He was just as worked up as Eames, just as affected by each light brush over engorged skin, just as desperate for this.

Eames was mewling with need before Arthur was ready, and he petted and shushed him until he was calm enough to start again. He was slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back home, savoring what he knew would be over too soon. When Eames let out a breathy, "Ah!" as he found just the right angle, Arthur doubled down, gripping his hips and hitting his prostate with every roll of his body.

"Oh, god, Arth… ur!" Eames howled, sounding completely wrecked, and fuck, if that didn't do it for Arthur, nothing would. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Arthur felt the shudder of Eames' orgasm rip through him with a shout, and the clench around his cock was enough to make Arthur close his eyes and slam into Eames with ferocity. He pumped into Eames, wringing cries out of him he never thought he'd hear, thrusting long after he was done because Eames kept making these _sounds_, and Arthur was in awe.

When Eames finally flinched away, shaking into the mattress, Arthur withdrew gently and released the ties on his arms and legs. Eames flopped further over the bed, his face red and sweaty, and Arthur retrieved the soiled pillow from beneath him, tossing it away. He watched Eames turn on his side, curling up, breath finally slowing. His eyes were closed when Arthur brushed the hair off his forehead, and Eames made the faintest movement toward Arthur's hand.

"You stay right there, Eames," Arthur whispered. "I'm going to take care of you."

Eames grunted what Arthur took as an acknowledgment, and he refastened his pants.

Arthur grabbed a glass and a cloth to wipe Eames down, and a soft blanket from the closet. His hands shook as he filled the glass. He'd never actually had anyone go into a sub-drop with him, and god, he loved Eames. He didn't want to fuck this up.

With a deep breath, he looked at himself in the mirror, wetting the cloth with warm water and acknowledging the truth. He was crazy about this man, desperate to show him how good he could make him feel, how well he could take care of him. He felt giddy, almost over-energized despite the fucking fantastic orgasm he'd just had.

Eames was right where he'd left him, curled into himself, sweat cooling on his body. Arthur knelt beside him and wiped him down carefully, clearing away sweat and come and lube, and removing the rest of the ropes.

"Hey? Eames? Drink this for me."

Eames' eyelids fluttered as he tried to raise his head, and Arthur added a straw to his mental list for next time. He helped Eames drink some of the water and then curled softly behind him, drawing the blanket over both of them.

The long, drawn-out sigh from Eames was a balm on Arthur's nerves, and he relaxed into Eames' body, light touches on his skin to reassure him, petting his hair and keeping the blanket tucked around him. The minutes slipped by and Arthur listened to the steady in-out of Eames' breath, felt the thump of his heart under his palm.

Eventually, Eames stirred, and Arthur raised himself up on an elbow to check on him.

"Hey, there you are," he said as Eames looked back at him, eyes clear once again. "You okay?"

Eames blinked slowly, and when he spoke, his voice sounded small. "I'm so sorry, darling."

Arthur gaped at him. "Sorry?! Sorry for what?"

A crease appeared between Eames' brows. "I came first. I wasn't supposed to, and I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it. If you let me try again…"

But Arthur bent down and kissed him, soft and sure, stopping his words. "You were perfect, Eames. Absolutely perfect."

Eames turned to look at Arthur fully. "I… was?"

Arthur smiled at him, fingers tracing his nose, mouth, cheekbones. "I've never been with anyone more perfect, Eames."

The crease between his brows was back and he said, "But I didn't even do anything. You did it all. I was just… me."

Arthur looked at him, still open and raw, and ducked his head to kiss him gently. "That's all I ever wanted, Eames. Just you."

And Eames raised and hand to pull Arthur to him, and kissed him back, promises of all the next times sweet on his tongue.


End file.
